


The End of the Moment

by SupernaturalPrincess9



Series: Sam and Dean: Songs from the Heart [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester UST, M/M, Unrequited Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 13:22:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3730474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupernaturalPrincess9/pseuds/SupernaturalPrincess9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Sam is at Stanford, a Dean filled with longing for his brother checks in on him as he fights his feelings for Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End of the Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song "Anywhere But Here" by SafetySuit

_October 2001_

Dean fell into step a good 40 yards behind Sam as his brother crossed the Stanford campus. It wasn’t that late – 10:00 PM on a Tuesday in mid-October – but it was dark enough for monsters. 

Dean watched his brother cover the ground with long, confident strides and an awareness which none of his contemporaries possessed. Dean had to keep an eye on Sam whenever he followed him on campus; not to protect him but to ensure that Sam didn’t see him. 

Dean had almost been discovered twice already.

Sam had been at school for almost 2 months and Dean checked in on him whenever he could. In fact, he spent the vast majority of his time going up and down the west coast since Sam had left for college, only taking jobs from Bobby in Washington, Oregon and California. Sometimes he’d shoot over to Nevada or Arizona, but only along the borders. 

He never wanted to be more than a day’s drive away from Sam.

John didn’t know where Dean was. He and Dean had gone their separate ways shortly after Sam left. Without Sam there to hold them together, and due to the way Sam left them, the relationship between Dean and John ultimately fractured; not beyond repair, but it wasn’t good enough for them to hunt together right now.

Dean thought about the last time he had seen his father. They were hunting werewolves in Arkansas. Sammy had been gone about 3 weeks and Dean and John had both been on edge since the day Sam had packed up his duffel bag and began his journey to the west coast, never looking back, never calling.

_August 2001_

Dean had come back to the motel after leaving the bar. A little drunk, a little fucked out and a lot desperate for his brother, he had found John crying over pictures of Sammy: Sammy as a baby. Sammy as a toddler in Dean’s lap. Dean holding Sammy’s hand on his first day of school. Dean teaching Sammy how to clean a gun. Bobby and Sammy playing catch, a watchful Dean looking on with a smile full of love. A proudly beaming Dean, his arm around Sammy in his cap and gown just 3 months earlier.

Dean couldn’t stop himself from barking out a high pitched laugh of disbelief. John looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. “What’s so funny, Dean?” John said in a low, menacing voice.

Dean threw his head back and laughed long and hard. He didn’t care anymore. “You, Dad! Look at you, crying over little Sammy’s defection… like you miss him so much.” Dean snorted with derision. “Fuckin’ hypocrite.”

John advanced on Dean and slapped him hard. “You better shut your mouth, boy. You need to think about what you’re saying before you speak that way to me.”

Dean placed his hand on his stinging cheek and looked his father in the eye. “Yeah? Well maybe you need to take a look at who is with Sammy in every one of those god damned pictures, Dad.” 

Dean watched regret flicker through John’s blood-shot eyes. “It was me, Dad! Sammy was my world – and I was his – and we would have been fine if you hadn’t driven him off! Issuing your stupid _‘if you walk out that door, don’t you ever come back’_ edict, like you’re some kind of king.” Dean scoffed and turned away.

Looking down on the pictures, Dean spoke quietly, pouring his love into every word. “I carried Sammy out of the house. I saved him, Dad. I held him when he cried. I taught him to walk. I waited with him at the bus stop. I taught him how to take care of our equipment and I taught him how to stand up for himself. I tended his wounds, I made him dinner, I soothed away his nightmares. When Sammy was in trouble or scared – he ran to me! He ran to me, Dad!”

With gentle fingers, Dean touched his brother’s smiling face in his graduation picture. “I helped him study. I watched as he excelled. I was so fucking proud of him, every step of the way.” Dean’s eyes lingered on Sammy’s graduation photo. Sam’s fingers were curled around his shoulder, gripping him tight. Dean’s arm was around Sam, holding him close – possession was nine-tenths of the law. Sam’s eyes shone bright with excitement and Dean had eyes only for Sam.

Dean swallowed past the lump in his throat. “And now he’s gone. No good-bye, no phone calls. Shit – not even one fucking post-card sent to Bobby’s… and you have no one to blame but yourself.” Dean was breathing hard from the emotion and the waves of pain rolling over him as he ached for another day to bask in Sam’s light.

Dean closed his eyes and waited silently for the slaps and punches that would come as retribution for daring to speak the truth.

_Is this the end of the moment or just a beautiful unfolding_  
Of a love that will never be or maybe be  
Everything that I never thought could happen or ever come to pass and I wonder  
If maybe, maybe I could be all you ever dreamed, cause you are 

_Beautiful inside, so lovely and I can't see why I'd do anything without you, you are  
And when I'm not with you, I know that it's true  
That I'd rather be anywhere but here without you_

Dean’s eyes flew open at the soft snick of the motel door clicking shut. He hadn’t expected John to leave. He’d purposely said his piece in a way he knew would provoke John. He’d wanted John to hurt him. He’d needed physical pain to give him something to focus on besides the tightness in his chest and the emptiness he felt inside without Sam at his side.

Dean released the breath he’d been holding. He looked down at the table again, letting his eyes travel over each picture laid out before him, losing himself in the dimpled smile that brought Dean the only happiness he’d ever known. 

Sam was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Dean was lost without Sam. He’d lost his purpose in life the day Sam looked back at him one last time, tears streaming down his face, before he turned away and didn’t look back.

Dean wondered every single day why he hadn’t just followed him. It would have been so easy to just pack up his meager belongings, take Sam’s hand firmly in his and walk away from all this. 

Regret roiled in Dean’s gut. He hated his father for programming him to be the dutiful son. He hadn’t been able to override it even for his beautiful Sammy. He hated himself for being so god damned weak.

“Sammy…” he whispered, as his thumb gently stroked Sam’s visage in his graduation photo. 

When the first tear fell, Dean knew what he had to do. Packing his stuff as quickly as he could and still maintain some semblance of order, Dean prepared for a new path. He wrote a note to his father and his last act before leaving was to add a post script to it after taking what he felt was rightfully his.

When John returned to the motel after midnight, ready to admit that he’d been wrong, he found Dean’s note. With the words Dean had left him, John’s plan to get in the car that night with his oldest son, to drive straight through to California to make things right with Sam evaporated.

_Dad,_

_I can’t be around you right now. I won’t change my cell number so you can still get a hold of me, but please don’t call unless it’s an emergency. I’ll check in with Bobby from time to time so you know I’m okay._

_You may have been Sammy’s biological father, but he was **always** mine. _

_Take care of yourself and be safe._

_Dean_

_P.S. I am taking the pictures. They’re all I have left._

John sat at the table, holding his head in his hands as he cried until the sunrise. He never understood how he could have fucked up so badly. Part of him was glad that Mary wasn’t around to see what a mess he’d made of things.

_October 2001_

Dean followed Sam until he arrived at his dorm, safe and sound. As Dean watched Sam disappear into the building, he sighed, running his hand over his face. Every time he followed Sam like this, he longed to walk up to him and say, “Heya, Sammy.”

In Dean’s day dreams about their reunion, Sam’s face would light up and he’d smile all the way to his eyes, dimples flashing with love, and he would grab Dean up in a hug. And they would hold onto one another tightly, laughing with the joy of being together again.

When Dean allowed himself to accept what he felt deep inside, he’d imagine the reunion differently. He’d stop Sam somewhere more private and the hug would skate the edge of passion. Dean would kiss Sam’s neck and whisper words of longing and love… and Sam would frame his face in his hands and kiss Dean breathless with joy.

Dean didn’t allow himself to imagine reunions like that often… only when he was alone in the dark of night, longing for things he couldn’t have as he cried himself to sleep. In those times, the thought of Sammy loving him like that was the only thing that could bring him peace, no matter how wrong and twisted it might seem.

When Dean saw Sam’s light go on his room, he stared intently at the window, willing Sam to feel his love. He didn’t linger long before he stuffed his hands in his pockets and began the slow walk back to his car. 

His head down, his thoughts focused inward, Dean paid no attention to his surroundings, relying on instinct to get him back to the car safely. 

He never saw Sam’s face emerge at his dorm window, his hand on the glass as though he were reaching out, while he watched Dean walk away with tears running down his face.

_December 2002_

Christmas was just a couple of weeks away. The Stanford campus was decked out in green and red with white lights strung up in the trees. There was no snow, but that didn’t suppress the air of anticipation for the holiday. 

It was cold and damp on the campus. Dean was bundled up, sitting on a bench in the plaza, watching for Sam.

It wasn’t long before Sam walked by with a group of friends. He seemed especially interested in a blonde girl who walked alongside him, talking animatedly and grabbing his arm from time to time. Dean felt his stomach clench as he watched Sam smile down at her. Dean’s eyes narrowed every time she laid her small hand on his brother’s arm.

Sammy looked good. Really good. Dean’s eyes devoured him as got up off the bench to follow at a safe distance. Sam was filling out. No longer a skinny kid, he had an air of contentment about him that made him more relaxed. It bothered Dean that Sam had never been that free with him.

Dean worried about Sam losing his edge. He may no longer be hunting, but there were still plenty of things that went bump in the night. Dean hoped Sam was still doing some training to make sure he could take care of himself in case he was faced with something supernatural.

When Dean saw Sam’s gait change – a little stutter in his step – he ducked behind a statue, sure than Sam had sensed him. He waited there for 30 seconds and then carefully looked back to where Sam had been. He was further down the plaza, still walking with his friends, but he was looking around, as though he sensed Dean was near.

Dean took at last look at Sam from the safety of the cover provided by the statue and whispered, “Merry Christmas, Sammy…” Silently he added, “I miss you.” 

Dean fought tears as he made his way back to his car. He had never felt so alone.

When Sam caught sight of a tall man, bundled up against the cold, bowed legs striding purposefully along the plaza, he stopped paying attention to Jessica. His eyes tracked Dean until he disappeared into the throngs of people heading to class. 

Sam knew he’d cry himself to sleep that night, like he did every night after Dean came to check on him without ever approaching him or letting him know he was here.

_Is this a natural feeling or is it just me bleeding_  
All my thoughts and dreams in hope that you will be with me or  
Is this a moment to remember or just a cold day in December, I wonder  
If maybe, maybe I could be all you ever dreamed cause you are 

_Beautiful inside, so lovely and I can't see why I'd do anything without you, you are  
And when I'm not with you, I know that it's true  
That I'd rather be anywhere but here without you_

_September 2003_

During Sam’s junior year at Stanford, Dean and his father reconciled. It was a delicate truce, but the hole Sam had left in their lives could only be dealt with together, with someone else who understood the magnitude of the loss. 

Dean and John tiptoed around one another and they never spoke of Sam, but that didn’t stop Dean from taking off occasionally to check in on Sam if they were near Stanford.

Sam lived with the blonde girl now. Jessica was her name. Dean had made some discreet inquiries to find out who she was and what she meant to Sam. 

Apparently they were serious. Dean wanted Sam to be happy but he knew, deep down, that if they got married, it would kill him. Just the fact that Sam was living with her caused Dean to feel a jealousy like he’d never known. He would always feel that Sammy was his and it was shocking to him that he found he didn’t want to share him with anyone.

He wasn’t proud of his feelings. In fact, it made him physically sick whenever he deigned to acknowledge just how selfish and wrong he was. It tore him up when he thought about his feelings for his brother. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. In Dean’s case, absence led to obsession and a longing that ruined him for anyone else.

Oh, he tried to fuck the pain away. In bars, in bathrooms, even up against a tree. He’d fucked his way across the country in an attempt to prove to himself that he was normal – that Sam meant nothing to him. What kept him awake at night was the realization that no matter how many women he took pleasure from, it was always Sam in his thoughts as he came. 

It was always Sam he wanted wrapped tightly around his cock.

What made things worse was the fact that when he imagined himself with Sam, he never imagined the animalistic, athletic sex he’d been having with nameless, faceless women in town after town. 

Nope. 

When he imagined himself with Sam, they were always in a bed, touching and kissing one another with love… so much fucking love. He was gentle as he thrust himself deep into Sam in the dark of the night. He was careful and loving and tender with him, holding him tight and murmuring words of reverence, respect and more love than he had ever thought possible.

Every time Dean imagined making love to Sam, his heart broke a little more. He assumed that one day it would either kill him or just shut him down completely, leaving him unable to feel anything at all. 

He almost longed for the day when he would feel nothing because this pain left him wrung out, exhausted, nearly incapacitated at times.

Night after night, Dean would silently cry himself to sleep as John slept just feet away, totally unaware of his son’s pain.

_Is this the end of the moment or just a beautiful unfolding of a love that will never be for you and me_

_Cause you are_

_You're beautiful inside, you're so lovely and I can't see why I'd do anything without you, you are  
And when I'm not with you, I know that it's true  
That I'd rather be anywhere but here without you_

_Early May 2005_

John pulled up to the motel in a new truck. Dean looked at him in confusion.

“What’s up with the truck, Dad?” Dean assessed the vehicle, noting the customizations his father had added to accommodate the tools of their trade.

John tossed Dean the keys to the Impala. “I need something to drive, Dean.”

The statement didn’t clear up Dean’s confusion. “What? What about the Impala?”

John gave Dean a tight smile. “She’s all yours now, Dean. Remember to take care of her.”

“What do you mean, Dad?” Dean asked, confused.

John just looked at Dean as he hauled his duffel to his new truck.

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this.” Dean felt panic rising in his chest. Was his father going to leave him alone? He supposed that had a certain sense of symmetry after he’d left his father alone for almost 2 years after Sam had left for college.

John walked over to his oldest son, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I’m going to head out on my own for a bit, Dean. You’ll be taking cases from Bobby and doing your own research for a while.”

Dean searched his father’s eyes, willing himself not to cry. “Is this about Sammy?”

John tightened his smile. “No, Dean. This has nothing to do with Sam. I have a few things I need to pursue and I need to do it on my own. That’s it.”

Dean nodded and took a deep breath, sticking his hand out in front of him, ready to shake his father’s hand. 

John looked at Dean’s hand and his smile slipped. “C’mon, Dean…” he breathed out, taking Dean into a hug. 

“You’ll always be my son, Dean.” John said, slapping Dean on the back a couple of time as he drew away. “Be careful, son.”

Dean felt tears gathering behind his eyes, but he wouldn’t let them escape. “Yes, sir. You, too.”

Dean didn’t let the tears fall until the taillights of his father’s truck disappeared around the bend.

When Dean couldn’t contact his father for several consecutive days, which was completely out of character since they had reconciled, he was nearly paralyzed with worry and fear. 

When he couldn’t deal with it alone any more, he pointed the Impala toward California and drove.

He needed Sam to help him find their father. He wasn’t delusional enough to think that Sam would just leave his life to go travel the country with him forever, but he hoped that he’d be willing to look for their father, to ensure he was ok. 

Dean knew he was going to be confronted with the reality of Jessica in Sam’s life. She would be loving him openly, the way Dean had always loved Sam in secret. As he drove, he tried to mentally prepare himself for how hard it would be to see them together, to realize that she was the one putting a smile on his face; to understand that she was the one who loved him in the night.

He did the only thing he could do as he made his way to California. Dean pushed his feelings for Sam so deep inside himself that he knew he could hide them there forever and no one would ever know. 

Dean’s willpower and focus had always been well-developed. He used them now to ensure none of the deeper, baser things he felt for Sam ever escaped to see the light of day.

His reunion with Sam didn’t happen the way he had once hoped and dreamed that it would.

Sam’s life didn’t turn out the way he had thought it would.

Some days Dean almost forgets about just how much he had loved and wanted Sam. As the years have passed, he’s never once let his control slip. 

Sam has never forgotten the former intensity of Dean’s love – so strong he had been able to feel it in his dorm room or across a crowded plaza. 

Every night Sam stares at the ceiling in countless dingy motel rooms, listening to Dean’s steady breathing as he sleeps soundly just an arm’s length away. 

He lies awake, wondering where all Dean’s love had gone.


End file.
